Sires, Sons & Shenanigans
by ravenromance27
Summary: A son has many tasks to accomplish and securing an education is one of them. But how can a dutiful son fulfill his role when everything-from his own folks to the very school he is attending is filled with nothing but chaos?
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note:**

KHR and all the other goodies that will appear here soon don't belong to me. There's not enough begging in the world that would make it so, and therefore, the reason why I and the rest write fanfics.

I know I haven't written a single blessed word in a long while. And instead of boring you with the usual complaints regarding the pressure of my other (real, employed, and often frustrating) life, or regale you with the sad, tragic fact that I lost my net connection for months due to miscommunication and lousy service—why don't I just tell you that there comes a time when _NO WORDS_ come calling or knocking around and so there really isn't going to be _ANY_ writing that could occur during said times.

That being said, I have no idea how this thing came to life. It just did. And so, like any good creature of creation when smiled upon by their fickle Muse, I decided to give in and runaway with the idea while it's still there. Much better fate than simply ignoring it and then living to regret it.

That being said, I hope you'll enjoy this ride. Well! MY first fic in 2015!

* * *

**Day One:**

**BROWN IS THE COLOR OF DEATH**

_**Good judgment comes from **_**experience**_**, **_

_**And experience-well, that comes from poor judgment.**_

_Anonymous_

* * *

There often are times in one's life when absolutes are made and certainties are proven. Times when life shows you that the universe is filled with undeniable truths and irrefutable tenets in which you must concede and live by.

And for as long as she would live Kumiko Sawada-Yamaguchi would forever associate the color _brown _to the color of chaos.

Now, usually, chaos would require more bold color than the mundane, safe hue that is brown. And truthfully, Yamaguchi-sensei used to believe this fact too, because once upon a time, she thought red was the color of chaos and change and chances. After all, it was red that brought to her side a means to continue on the future. Brown, unlike red, after all doesn't call to mind anything dangerous, certainly no hue could be less so, being so soft and warm and _safe_.

Brown, all things considered, reminds most people of the newly-turned earth and the color of the moist mud where children played right after summer's rain. Brown is the sweet potatoes bought from street peddlers. Brown is also the color of it's the color of one of the most sinful concoctions ever created by man—_chocolate._

No, brown isn't especially threatening or even alarming. Yet for this school year's resident of Namimori High, they might as well revise and review everything they ever wrote or said or thought about the color brown. Because this year, three certain brunets in her class would prove that brown could very well be indeed the color of danger.

* * *

It began with the one that walked—no not walked—_stalked_ into the room like some barely leashed creature from the wild cackling softly from behind a small black notebook clutched in front of his face by a hand with unusually long fingers, head barely visible enough to reveal reddish-brown hair spiked up like some rabid porcupine. The way he wore his uniform was barely passing regulation and his ears were pierced from lobes up to its very tip. He was also ridiculously skinny and taller than the average freshmen that came through her door.

_Huh, guess that makes passing through the metal detectors pretty damned inconvenient. Wonder how many minutes it takes to remove them._

"Morning. You belong to this class kid?"

She had to ask seeing as how the room was still empty and the rest of the student body and the members of the faculty were dutifully attending the Entrance Ceremony.

Barely acknowledging her query whether he belonged to her class, the boy stared at her for half a second with icy blue-grey eyes, cocked an eyebrow and pointed with a finger (_yes, _that_ finger_) towards the sign hanging just by the door's threshold before dumping his bag into one of the tables at the back and hooked his long legs around his chairs spire to drag it close before perching on it much like a lounging hyena, occasionally cackling with the same eerie snicker.

_Weird kid. Oh well, one weirdo per class wouldn't hurt none._

* * *

Unruffled, she turned towards the door and waited and noted that five minutes after the assembly ended another figure stood stock still by the sliding door, simply watching both her and the room's other occupant with an intense, assessing gaze.

This newer addition was slight, skin paler than alabaster and hair that could only be called chestnut cut in an oddly feminine wedge that skimmed his well-shaped jaw. His features were beautifully rendered, bordering on the patrician, his cute button nose and pouty lip saving his face from becoming nauseatingly perfect.

He gave small bow, inclining his head politely towards her and murmuring in a smooth, mellifluous voice a simple greeting.

"Good morning, Sensei."

"Morning. First or Last?"

"First or last what, Sensei?"

A small smile and a raised eyebrow followed suit. _Really, what's with the freshmen and their eyebrows?_ Snorting rather indelicately, she replied. "Name. You tell me now and we won't have issues later. Tell me your preference."

"Ah, of course."

A nod and a small smile graced full lips, dewy and pouty and terribly distracting in someone so young and appealing. She could feel her maternal instincts just fluttering at the sight of the boy that she almost missed his amused response.

"How utterly diplomatic of you, Sensei."

Pinning the younger one with a look, she reached up and adjusted her glasses before muttering. "So? Choice? I haven't got all day, kid."

"Of course. Forgive me. First. Kei."

"Kei huh. Alright, we'll do formal introductions later. Pick a seat while we wait for the others then."

* * *

The class was already half-way to being filled when there was a loud boom followed by an announcement through the PA system that one of the school's sprinkling system suddenly exploded and warned the students to stay in their room while maintenance deals with the problem.

Yamaguchi Kumiko-Sensei was about to start checking attendance when her ears caught the tell-tale squeak of rubber soles burning in rapid acceleration across well-waxed wooden floors.

Her final student for the day burst into the room at a dead run as if the hounds of hell were chasing after him. He collapsed on the floor, panting and gasping like a single strong gust of wind would knock him into a coma.

"You alright?"

The figure currently gasping and heaving like a dying mutt on her classroom floor gave her an apologetic grimace and nod from behind disheveled autumn locks. Eyes the color of the heavens during sunset focused desperately on her face even as thin, peach-pale lips wheezed apologetically.

"Sorry for the inconvenience Sensei."

"What the hell happened to you?"

"Uhm, that."

"That?"

"Hell, I think. Sorry."

"Hell huh? Fine, so first or last kid?"

_Kid?_ "First or last what Sensei?"

"Name. Spit it out, we haven't got all day."

The kid gave her a shy smile and for a moment she got lost in the brilliance of those unusually lambent orange-gold eyes even as her ears caught his soft, slightly hesitant answer.

"Yoshinobu, but I'd like it very much if you call me Shin."

This time, it was _her_ eyebrows that gave in to the urge to rise cockily. "_Shin,_ huh?"

Yep. Without a single doubt, Kumiko Sawada-Yamaguchi, homeroom adviser of Namimori High Class I-C pondered the very real case that, for this newest school year—her class would definitely consider brown as the color for chaos, danger and disaster. And she wouldn't want it any other way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note:**

SO I guess I achieved vagueness on a magnitude that's quite unexpected even for someone like me. I hope that this one would explain a bit better. I don't expect my writing of this piece to take a long while but the next one might come a lot longer than two days that's for sure. Anyways, thanks for those who took the time to read this—well—whatever this is that popped up inside my head. I assure you—this is one of those rare instances wherein the story seems to do the writing itself. Again, thanks to those who gave this story a chance. It couldn't have been much fun trying to figure out whatever madness I was trying to hint at, so here's to you guys. Enjoy!

* * *

**Day Two:**

**FATHERS with SONS**

_**Deep in the man sits fast his fate**_

_**To mould his fortunes, mean or great.**_

_\- RALPH WALDO EMERSON, Fate_

* * *

**TOKYO**

**AKIO's POV**

He couldn't believe the hassle being the son of a known athlete could create. Sure his father was unique and had a reputation that couldn't be belied or ignored unless you live in the outer regions of Siberia. And sure his sainted mother was a veritable angel who worked tirelessly to curve his father's tendencies to go overboard as well as continuing on her work teaching impressionable brats who couldn't appreciate the fact that they were in the presence of a real-life angel, but that's beside the point. Finding a school to take over school shouldn't be this damned troublesome. All he wanted was to play and of course take charge of the school—no reason not to when the opportunity presents itself.

"_Namimori_ boy? What the hell are you thinking?"

"Shut it Old Man, it's my choice and Mom said I could do as I wish as long as make good grades."

"Yeah, well she's lenient as shit like that. What the fuck are you doing in a namby-pamby joint like Namimori?"

"You've been living under a rock fucking Old Man? Namimori High has the highest change rate in ranking in the country. They are nationally acknowledged and getting in at all requires more than just some stupid fucking test. They did a comprehensive background check. Be fucking thankful it was Mom they talked to."

"Big fucking deal. That still doesn't explain why you're choosing that dipshit school. Didn't think you could cut the shit at Deimon?"

"Like hell I couldn't. I just don't want to take in the scraps that you left behind Old Man. Didn't you realize it yet—the kids in Deimon would be the ones born from those idiots you and Mom went to school with. The fuck I would settle for those bozos."

Now, if he could only find out who else would be coming in for the damned school year, then he could make the appropriate plans. There was still practice to be scheduled; training menus to be planned and the _senpais_ he found in the athletic clubs wouldn't know a trick play if he used a Gatling gun on their stupid asses. Come to think of it—he should probably ask his father if he could get access to the smallest of their armories. No sense bringing out the big guns until after he has made his initial assessment.

Reaching up, he tapped his uniform pocket to check the presence of his very own black book—a gift from his father upon entering middle school-and wondered where he would start gathering the first of his would-be slaves.

* * *

**KYOTO**

**KEI's POV**

The notion of normality intrigued him. Born to a life of wealth, influence and not inconsiderable lineage precluded such a fate for someone like him. His pedigree alone set him apart and he has made his peace with it. To do otherwise would've been foolhardy at best and a waste at worst. A privileged life was not something accorded to everyone and it would be in his best interest to simply appreciate his lot in life and make use of his given opportunities in the most efficient light possible. His beloved has taught him over and over again, in a hundred different ways that he was given such a gift so it was up to him to see that's its used for the greatest possible good.

But then the idea—the mere notion that he could achieve it—a normal life—no matter how briefly or short a while—was intriguing to say the least. He has been raised with the knowledge that it was in his very nature to lead so many unruly people—both the commonplace and the gifted. It was not something that he truly dwelled on unduly because such revelations, like the unusual hue of his hair and eyes, or the unavoidable complications brought about by his name—they were, like everything else, just another aspect of his totality. One he would deal with swiftly and decidedly when the time comes. Sure, every now and then he fears succumbing under the constant, ever-increasing pressure but he had support of his beloved and the guidance and counsel of his father and if nothing else—he was a living guarantee that failing isn't always necessarily a bad thing and that great things could be had even from the most unremarkable of sources.

"_Kei…are you sure you can manage on your own with just Hanshiro for company? It's an awful long way from home…"_

"_I'm sure I could do it…will you worry about me?"_

"_I always will. Oh Kei, please tell me, do you want me to stay with you? I'm sure your father wouldn't mind if we go. We have plenty of residences close enough to—!"_

"_Stop coddling the boy. He would be well-looked after by his valet. Look at him—he knows exactly what strings to pull to make you choose him over me. Are you choosing him over me, koishii?"_

"_Anata…seriously, what are you suggesting? He's our son, of course I'd worry about him. He doesn't need to tug on strings or whatever—I will always worry about Kei."_

"_You hear that Father? Beloved will worry over me. How can you cause my beloved to be so anxious?"_

"_If you do not desist in making such ridiculous claims, you will never get to be close enough to my Koishii until you come home for the summer."_

"_Hn."_

His beloved has proven time and time again that there was some merit in the mundane offerings of life. He even has the promise of having his favorite food served to him whenever he feels the need for comfort and sustenance. _Now if only his father would stop using his beloved as a means for bartering for his cooperation_. And if only his father hadn't tasked him with the nigh-impossible task of keeping reign over his childhood friends then perhaps he could actually look forward to coming to a new school.

Oh well, he has learned early on to take challenges in his stride. He will conquer everyone and everything that falls under his gaze. Being him warrants nothing less than utter perfection. _He is after all, absolute._

* * *

**ITALY**

**SHIN's POV**

It was the first day in school and unlike he was two weeks ago—he wasn't looking forward to it. The thrill of discovery, of new places and new faces and knowing new things hasn't faded yet but the hope and belief that he would ever achieve normality had already passed him like the ebbing tide. All that is left behind is the cold, paralyzing tendrils of dread and fear that coiled around what used to be his excited and exultant heart.

_**Father was finally sending him there.**_

Father said it was time. Mother said he would enjoy it immensely. He had, after all spent many childhood summers there and always expressed his desire to attend school somewhere familiar to his folks. Well now, he was getting his wish. _If only they hadn't said something it would've perfect_. Had it been just his parents who were optimistic of his current situation, it wouldn't have been so bad but then again _THEY_ endorsed it as well. That pretty much ended his excitement right there.

Every time _they_ endorsed something it ended up being something utterly traumatic. It's a lesson—_painful and disheartening though it was_—that he has at an early age completely learned and adapted to. He is nothing if not terribly pragmatic at times, but in the depths of his heart, the sliver of hope live on even if he no longer makes any mention of it withers just the tiniest bit. After all...

_**Father is sending him where **_**HE**_** was.**_

And he had such high hopes for his high school life. Certainly it wouldn't be as simple or easy or even completely normal for someone like him. He knows that and he was prepared to make the usual sacrifices and allowances but he didn't expect it to be a complete and utter farce.

All he needs now is one of his uncle's infamous 'rulebook' and he would be set for life. _Because, seriously—what kind of family requires a handbook just to enable other people to deal with them with any degree of success?_

And all this after the hassle he went through begging his father for a chance to escape from the private tutors and the dreaded fate of boarding school in some far-flung foreign country with no one for company but those equally privileged, often times bored brood of the wealthy, titled and influential. That wasn't the path he wanted. He wanted a taste of freedom, of the mundane, of the normal. He wanted to walk to school with his classmates, goof off in the arcade with his friends, join a club, participate in the school festival and maybe even have a crush or two on a cute girl.

Now, never mind entertaining the idea of finding and experiencing something like a harmless teen crush—just finding friends in school who wouldn't cower in fear or stutter in wariness or just stare in some kind of demented awe might prove to be a minor miracle for him. If not for the children of his own father's friends, and the close-knit family that his father created when he was a younger boy, he would've lived his entire childhood days in isolation. And now those same children would be accompanying him.

If he could slam his head on the nearest surface every time the reality of _that _fact would get to him, his face would require surgery.

"_Dad, I don't want an entourage—! That's the reason I'm going there remember?!" _

"_They're not an entourage, son. They're your friends, remember?"_

"_I know that Dad, and they're fine. But you know that if we attend school together, sooner or later those old fogies will insist on sending someone and then the whole idea of being away from here would be moot!"_

"_Moot…nice word."_

"_**Daaad**__-!" _He can't believe his father was taking the matter so lightly! This was a travesty! Had he been any younger he would be stomping his feet and throwing a mini-tantrum or as much as one as he could muster. Doesn't the man understand that this was the rest of his life on the line?

"_Yes, yes…well, son, I don't want you to be lonely and frankly I thought you'd be excited with the idea of having a few close friends with you. Am I mistaken?"_

"_No." _He sighed and looked down at his laced up fingers, twiddling his thumb in thought_. "I think it's great that they'll be with me, but how can we be just like everyone else when they'll be there hovering like some hunkering black wall? Dad—come on, you promised me when I get to high school that I won't have to deal with them for a while."_

After all, his being _Erede_ and all is already stressful enough. Being normal wasn't going to be easy.

* * *

**NAMIMORI**

Yamaguchi-Sensei glanced at the clock hanging above her blackboard and reached out to crack open her class register. With an excited flush that would've amused her husband had he been around to see it, she gave her waiting class a wicked grin and a wink before she started reeling off names in her soft, slightly husky voice. The roll proceeded without much fanfare, each student she called the first name of would give a brief introduction of themselves, mentioning the middle school they came from and the type of activities they enjoyed, subjects they wished to excel in and clubs they intended to join. The steady cadence of names and voices move on peacefully until she came upon the first of her brown-haired curiosities.

"Akio-kun?"

"Here."

"Would you like to introduce yourself to the rest of the class Akio-kun?

"Drop the honoric, Teach. It makes me fucking itch. Only my old lady calls me with one and she's the only exemption to that rule." After a pointed look from her, he added lazily like an afterthought, "No offense, Teach."

"I don't offend easily. So Akio, care to add a last name and something more pertinent to that rule?"

"Do I hafta?'

"Yep. That's the rule."

"Fucking stupid rule is what it is." He ignored the sharp intake of breath from most of his classmates and proceeded to give the room a leer that made quite a number of boys move their chairs back in instinctive self-preservation and some girls to break out in tears.

"We're waiting Akio."

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you Teach. Fuck it—name's Akio. Hiruma Akio. I'm going to be quarterback of the Football team. I don't like idiots and if you insist on becoming one I will make you into my fucking slave, so consider this your one warning and don't make me fucking repeat myself."

Tugging at her earlobe surreptitiously, Yamaguchi-Sensei hid the lower half of her face behind her register lest she reveals the utterly wicked grin that's been on her lips ever since the foul-mouthed brat started speaking. _Damn, that kid reminds me of folks at home._ Clearing her throat, she tried to compose herself as she gave him a slight—_very slight—_reprimand.

"Hey brat, curve the cussing. It's unseemly in school. What would your father say if he hears you talk like some third-rate goon?"

"Probably ask me where I learned to speak like a thrice-the-gods-be-damned ninny. And speak for yourself, Teach. I think you can speak even fouler than anyone I've ever met save my Old Man."

"Hiruma huh? Why does that name sound familiar? Ah well, never mind that. I am sorry to inform you though that Namimori doesn't have a football team."

"It doesn't have a fucking one _yet_. Doesn't mean it won't fucking have one as long as I'm here."

"You planning on making one?"

"Not planning. I_ will_ fucking make one."

"Ambitious. I'll give you that."

"Thanks a fucking-bunch Teach."

"You're welcome you foul-mouthed brat. Now park your butt back into that chair. Next, in the roster—huh, another of you troublesome brown-heads. Kei, you're up."

The young man called stood gracefully from his seat, making the move so smoothly it seemed more like he was executing a dance step rather than simply rising to his feet. He inclined his head elegantly towards his classmate before executing an proper one in front of her making her feel self-conscious and fluttery.

_Damn kid had manner smooth enough to impress an Emperor._

When he spoke, his voice was soft but a lot deeper than expected from his slight frame and dripping with _keigo_ so stiff it was enough to make Yamaguchi fidget in her seat.

"Thank you, Yamaguchi-Sensei."

"You can-um—introduce yourself now, _teehee_."

"Hey fucking Teach, what's with that goofy stupid laugh? You constipated or something?"

"Shut it Akio. Go on Kei."

"Of course. Good morning everyone, my names Akashi Kei. Until a week ago I lived in Kyoto with my parents. I am looking forward to working with everyone here."

"That's great. Kyoto huh. So any hobbies there Kei?"

The young man nodded, causing the shimmering fall of his chestnut hair to brush against his delicate, high cheekbones. "Go and basketball. I will be joining the basketball team here."

Akio's brassy voice spoke from behind. "Basketball hah! That's lame enough for you. Real men play football."

Kei flickered a small glance at this new classmate with his whisky-hued eyes before turning his gaze away dismissively, missing the minute narrowing of Akio's own intense gunmetal gray eyes.

"Any old barbarian could run and barrel into someone without the need to entertain any kind of cognitive process or thought."

Akio hissed, his fingers drumming against his desk's top "Hey fucking pretty boy! Are you saying I'm just a meathead, you fucking midget?"

"Your repertoire of insults rather limited isn't it?"Kei retorted promptly, eyes still focused on his oddly grinning homeroom adviser.

"I don't need a lot to insult something as tiny as you, Short Stuff."

"I don't consider your words insulting." Kei waved a languid hand towards the smirking, spiky haired young delinquent than insisted on speaking to him. "The barks of rabid dogs are after all just that—barks."

Unlike he predicted, Akio didn't lose his temper, instead a sadistic grin painted pale thin lips and the faintest hint of approval flickered within those dark eyes. "You sure give as fucking good as you get, doncha, fucking Shortie?"

Kei gave a short nod. "All that and more. After all, I am absolute."

"Huh…kinda sounds like fucking Old man Yamato to me."

"You two done flirting yet?"

Two dark heads swiveled towards her like snakes poised to strike—eyes dark with chagrin—one whisky-hued, the other the unmistakable shade of the finest grade steel—gazed at her with hypnotic, unnerving ferocity. It was only then that the two noted the interested—and in some cases, shocked—looks they've gathered from their classmates.

"Fucking does _that_ mean Teach?"

"Well I guess Kei is right then. You need better insults Akio. If that's the only verbal tick I need to get used to from you, it will get pretty boring, pretty soon."

"Sensei, I do resent the implication that I would engage in such a manner—!"

"Fucking Teach! Hey, stop grinning—and you, fucked up midget—what the fuck do you get off sounding offended?!"

"I have every right to be given such ridiculous insinuations."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

Yamaguchi picked up a fragment of chalk and launched it at the bellowing, porcupine head, not even surprised when the long fingers caught it without a fuss. "I told you to shut up and sit down Akio. Don't make me get duck tape and do it for you. Now, guess you're the last one. You're up Shin."

"Ah, o-of course Sensei. Sorry for the trouble. Well, my name is Sawada Shin—sensei?!"

Yamaguchi Kumiko choked at the name and almost slid off her chair into an inglorious heap on the floor. "Ah, no, can you not say _that_ name—please? Kinda makes me twitch—use your full name this time around ok Shin?"

"What's your problem with his fucking name, Teach?"

Yamaguchi could feel her eyebrows twitching dangerously but she managed to wrestle her temper and her face into a carefully blank façade. And she was about to congratulate herself on her accomplishment when she heard the other troublesome, contentious brunet speak.

"Indeed, I confess curiosity Sensei. Is the name Sawada Shin significant in any way to you?"

Of course, he would pick up on it. Damn smart ass shortie. Sighing, she looked past the troublesome trio that were trying to drill a hole on her forehead and swept her gaze around the room, flustering when she realized that the rest of her class was avidly paying attention. Scrubbing a hand down her face, she sighed and admitted defeat.

"Fine. Sawada Shin happens to be the name of my husband. There, happy you brats?

"Tch! That's it? You didn't have to make it sound so fucking mysterious Teach. That's not a secret—is it? By the way, why are you named Yamaguchi if your husband's called Sawada? You related to the quaking bunny over there?"

"Not even close." She gave an apologetic smile at the patiently waiting autumn haired boy. "Never mind my situation, I'll just explain that later. Now Shin, please continue your introduction and I do apologize for the interruption."

"No problem, Sensei. Well, as I was saying, my name is Sawada Yoshinobu. Please call me Shin or Shinobu. I answer to both. I like cooking and gardening and I play baseball some of the time because my uncle Takeshi taught it to me when I was about four. I am looking forward to working everyone here."

Yamaguchi Kumiko checked the final box in her roster with a satisfied grin when the name pinged inside her head. _Sawada Yoshinobu huh. Sawada. Yoshinobu. Pretty rare name. Why does that name sound familiar?_

"Hey, Shin, you came from Namimori?"

Shin nodded and smiled at his teacher, unaware of the sweetness of his expression making every one who saw it blink. "My parents were. I used to summer here though, Sensei."

"Summer here? Meaning you don't live here all year-round?"

"Ah…no. Until last week, I was in Italy, Sensei."

"Italy? Why would—_no freaking way_. No goddamned way! _He wouldn't_! That damned stoic _Skylark_ wouldn't—!"

Shin paled at the sudden thunderous expression that painted his teacher's face. Stepping back nervously, he bumped into his chair and barely managed to collapse ingloriously into his seat. His attention was diverted to the softly cackling spiky haired boy next to him who was staring at him with curious dark eyes.

"Huh, I take it Teach knows something fucking bad about you?"

"I sincerely hope that's not the case."

"Too late, twitchy. I think she fucking figured something out. Is it a big deal?"

"Depends on how you look at it?" he deadpanned, forehead thunking softly against the top of his desk.

"How else should one look at it?" Kei asked, intrigued at the possibility of solving a new mystery. He pinned his new neighbor with inquisitive eyes.

"The end of the world?"

Akio snickered. "That fucking bad huh?"

"Surely that's a gross exaggeration."

Shin groaned forlornly from underneath his folded arms. "Don't I just wish that…"

"Hehe, so it is that fucking bad!"

"You have no idea Hiruma-kun. No idea _at all._ If she'd talking about _HIM_—I'm going to be dead."

"Him huh? Want to elaborate?"

"The devil."

Kei chuckled in amusement, "That would be troublesome."

Shin nodded glumly, "You've no idea."

"Sucks to be you."

"Indeed."

Shin stared at Akio and Kei, grimacing before dropping his head back into the nest of his arms. "Thanks a lot."

"Don't mention it."

"What the fucking midget said."


End file.
